A New Story, A New Threat
by Nykizta
Summary: After the war, the world has moved on and a new enemy emerges. As a band rises up, Draco and Harry are forced together, but to what extent? Rated M for possible slash and violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: The Present

**Disclaimer:** The realm of Harry Potter and the characters within are not of my making! They all belong to the lovely J.K Rowling. I only play with them every once in a while. ;)

**Chapter One: Present**

_He sat on the floor, crying as he stared at his bloodied hands. Cried as he thought of what he'd done. Cried as he thought of the one he loved. Of the one he had loved._

* * *

"You idiot!" Malfoy shouted, pacing back and forth on the stone floor of Harry Potter's kitchen.

"What else was I supposed to do, Draco? She would be dead if I hadn't pulled her out of there immediately, and I didn't have enough strength to go anywhere else!" Harry screamed back, almost whining in his desperation and anguish. He'd led them here. It was his fault. Just to save a girl he had met once, he had sacrificed the safety of his home, his friends, and his lover.

"You and your _damned hero complex_," Draco snarled at him. "You don't even know the girl. You can't even tell me her name. And because of this nameless girl," he shouted, gesturing to the other room where the girl lied on the couch, "you sacrificed all of us? Everything important is here. All the knowledge we've gained, all of the resources we've gathered, all the memories we've made. If we can't hold them off, it's gone. All of it gone because of a nameless girl, Potter," Draco ground out. He hadn't stopped pacing, his shoes crunching in the remains of the dishes he'd thrown when the passion had first taken him.

"I knew you were a fool, Potter, but this?" Draco finally stopped and stared at Harry. Out of everyone, Harry knew Draco stood to lose the most. Draco was the only one besides Harry who couldn't run. He'd dedicated his everything to this. He'd poured every ounce of his being into the success of this operation.

And with one stupid decision, Harry had brought it all crumbling to the ground around him.

* * *

_He reached out to touch the face, eyes still open in shock. His trembling fingers stroked the cooling cheek. He ran his hand tentatively through the soiled hair. Watched as all colored drained away from the beautiful features._

* * *

The door flew off of its hinges, slamming into the opposing walls as the intruders finally made it through the wards on the door. They didn't bother yelling for their victims since they knew the victims were already aware of their presence. They just wanted the girl.

The black-cloaked figures streamed through the house in a perfectly seamless, never-ending line from room to room as they decimated all the books, papers, and trinkets of every kind. As they passed into the kitchen, Harry and Draco looked up expectantly, their wands resting the counter across the room. With a few muttered words, curses were flung at the two of them, slamming them each into the nearest wall where they fell unconscious to the floor. Four of the black-clad figures broke from the line, two to each man, and waited for everyone in line to cease moving as they picked up the two men. Meanwhile, the figures took the unconscious female from the couch, doing the same as they did with the men.

There were no others in the house, so the figures shortly filed out of the ancient house, leaving nothing but tatters and shattered pieces in their wake. The six burdened figures took up the rear. The line began vanishing as they set foot upon sidewalk outside of the house.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey there! It's Nyki. ^^ I'm a brand new author and this is my debut fic! :D Don't worry about the shortness of this chapter, they get long as we go. ;) I hope you enjoy! Also, thaaaank you to Terra for betaing this chap for me. x3


	2. Chapter 2: The Problem

**Disclaimer:** Refer to Chap 1. Harry Potter and friends aren't mine. ^^

* * *

Harry grumbled and shoved his face into the pillow as he registered that the tapping on the window required him to get up. Rolling off of the bed, Harry trudged over to the window, grumbling about the 'unreasonable hour' and 'the complete wrongness of him being expected to be awake.' He grabbed a treat out of a jar by the window and threw said window open to recognize Hermione's owl.

Glancing at the clock, his brow furrowed. It wasn't even 5 AM yet. Something had better be disastrously wrong or Hermione would have a very irritated Harry on her doorstep in another 5 hours.

After offering the treat to the bird, Harry took the message from the owl and opened the letter. He wanted to be back in bed soon as possible.

The letter banished all thoughts of sleep from Harry's mind.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded as soon as Hermione's door opened. Hermione looked like hell. Her normally frizzy hair looked like a rat's nest and she had noticeable bags beneath her eyes. She didn't respond to his question, merely stepping to the side to let him in and closed the door before heading to a shut door a few meters away. With slight hesitation, Hermione opened it and strode in. Close behind her, Harry gasped at the sight he saw as he entered the room.

Ron was lying on a couch, bleeding from several deep, well placed cuts. They were all accurately inflicted to hinder movement and cause maximum pain. There were only about ten cuts, but the depth and placement of the gashes made up for their lack in number.

However, Ron's physical state wasn't the only thing that had Harry gasping. There at Ron's side was none other than Draco Malfoy – the same Malfoy he'd been quite content not to have seen in the six years since they'd left Hogwarts. Harry bit back a nasty outburst and looked sideways at Hermione, his gaze conveying his complete and utter confusion.

"Malfoy's the expert with this type of magical wound," Hermione said quietly, noticing Harry's look. "When Ron was found, Malfoy was called in immediately."

"What _type_ of wounds are these?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed.

Draco finally looked up from working on Ron, "It's similar to a _Sectumsempra _spell combined with a Statis Spell that somehow doesn't stop the bleeding or hold off the pain. Ron's lucky he's stayed passed out as long as he has. I was able to stop the bleeding on all of the wounds, but the wounds aren't healing yet. We're going to want to get Ron to St. Mungo's now that I've taken care of what they couldn't," Malfoy said, addressing the last sentence to Hermione who nodded.

Malfoy put his extra bandages in his bag and tucked away his wand as he stood up. With a nod to both Hermione and Harry, he left the room swiftly and within seconds Harry could hear the front door click shut.

"'Mione, what happened?" Harry asked softly, knowing Hermione had to be more affected by this than she was letting on. She and Ron had been married four years now and while the couple argued as much, if not more, than they did in their school years, anyone with half a brain could see the obvious affection they had for each other. Ron and Hermione were the only couple out of their friends that Harry didn't have a single doubt about lasting. They were each others' worlds and Hermione was holding out a lot better than he would have if he were in her shoes.

Hermione took a deep breath as she stared at Ron. "We're not sure. He was on Auror business, supposedly. He was found in a completely different area, though, drifting on his broom with all those wounds. No one knows how on earth he even stayed on his broom." She took another deep breath before turning and looking squarely at Harry.

"They're saying someone might have been trying to send a message or warning. Harry, who would do that, and why to Ron?" Hermione asked, looking pleadingly at Harry, trying to understand why her husband had been targeted. He swept Hermione into a fierce hug, unable to stand the desperate look on his friend's face.

"We need to set up transport for him so he can be at the hospital before he wakes up," Harry said calmly, still holding onto her before gradually letting go and stepping back. She nodded and walked over to a fireplace on the other side of the room.

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, staring incredulously at the mediwizard.

The wizard in question shifted nervously from side to side. "We can't fully heal him. The wounds begin to grow whenever we try to heal them with magic and at this point, it'd be better for him to just heal normally. Thanks to Mr. Malfoy, we don't have to worry about Mr. Weasley bleeding out, so after stitching him up, it'd be better if he just healed on his own."

When he finished, the wizard handed a stack of papers and a pen to Hermione and hurried away.

"What was his problem?" grumbled Harry, mostly to himself. As he turned to Hermione, who was perusing the documents she'd been given, he noticed her mouth drop open and her eyes widen. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione took a second as she continued to stare at the papers before looking up at Harry. "They want me to take him home," she finally said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

Harry was confused. "And that's a bad thing?" His eyebrows drew together as he tried to understand his friend's reaction.

Hermione looked genuinely shocked at Harry's question. "What? No! Of course not! It's just…" she trailed off, trying to explain her shock. "They've assigned him an at-home healer."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, understanding that this wasn't what had shocked her.

After a quick glance back at the documentation, she looked up at him again. "They've assigned Malfoy."

* * *

Ok, so, warning!!! Posting will be sort of erratic until I have Chap 4 posted. From then out, I'll try my best to keep the posting consistent and, hopefully, on a schedule of some sorts.

Until next time! :D

(Also, feel free to leave reviews!!! They help writers write. *.*)


	3. Chapter 3: The Healer

Harry tried to bury his irritation as Malfoy walked into his home. He had promised himself years ago to drop his grudges from his school days, but it was easier said than done.

When Harry realized what Malfoy as Ron's personal physician would entail, he instantly offered to let Ron and his new healer take up temporary residence at 12 Grimmauld Place. While he wasn't comfortable allowing Malfoy into his home, Harry knew that Hermione would be much more uncomfortable with Malfoy in hers. This way, Harry could support Hermione and provide a slightly less strenuous environment. Potentially.

Hermione had reluctantly agreed, the need for comfort and friends overriding her arguments of burdening Harry. She knew she needed this as much he did.

What really surprised Harry was Malfoy's smooth acceptance. Apparently the hospital had alerted him before Harry called Malfoy through the floo for Hermione to inform him of the arrangements. Malfoy had just responded with a quick nod and a request to be contacted when everything was settled at the Black residence.

So, twenty-four hours later, Malfoy was moving into 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry stared at Malfoy's back as he made his way to the stairs with his modest-sized suitcase and the bag he'd had when treating Ron before St. Mungo's, but that wasn't what Harry was staring at.

Malfoy had aged nicely since Hogwarts. Broad shoulders over a shapely back with toned legs and a very nice- _No_, Harry cut himself off. So Malfoy had gained some sex appeal. It wasn't as if Harry hadn't as well, so there was no need to drool over the blond. He was pleasing to the eye, fine, but Harry was not _attracted_ to the man.

_But what about what's attached to the man? _Harry's inner devil suggested evilly, drawing his gaze to what would definitely be exceptions.

When Malfoy reached the foot of the stairs, he turned, noticing Harry's gaze and the fact that his eyes weren't anywhere near his face. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and Harry flushed.

"Where am I to be staying, Potter?" Malfoy asked with an amused edge to his voice. He could have busted up laughing for all Harry cared, as long as he didn't start questioning him about his staring.

"You're on the second floor. Door on the right. Ron is straight across from you, Hermione is next to him, and I'm on the floor above," Harry recited nervously, glad to hurry away from other possible topics. "Do you need me to show you?" Harry offered automatically, immediately kicking himself mentally for it, but Malfoy was already ascending the stairs.

"No, I think I can manage. Is Weasley already situated?" Malfoy asked, calling over his shoulder.

"Yes. Hermione is with him and he's still unconscious." Harry thought he saw the blond head nod before disappearing from his view. When he heard the footsteps from overhead stop and a door shut, Harry took a deep breath. This was going to be painful…

* * *

Harry woke up the next day groggy and uncomfortable from lack of sleep. His thoughts the previous night kept switching from being uncomfortable with Malfoy's presence to being uncomfortable in a completely different way, again having to do with the blond's physical presence.

To say he was disturbed with his own thoughts would be an understatement, at the very least. Harry could usually brag about how comfortable he was in his own head. After the war, he'd finally grown comfortable with himself. When great evils and hormones aren't in the way, self discovery is significantly easier. But, for the first time in a long time, he couldn't understand himself.

Groaning out loud at his inner musings, he pulled himself into a sitting position, noticing that sun had barely even risen. Why on earth was he even awake?

_Wait, what's that smell?_

Harry got up off his bed and yanked on a pair of pajama pants, wincing as he heard them rip. Yawning, he left his room and plodded down the two flights of stairs, still trying to figure out what the smell was. If it had been smoke, he would know. He'd set up several wards around the house to warn him of things like uncontrolled fires, magical traps, forced entry, and so on.

Finally following the smell to the kitchen, he stopped just outside the door, raising an eyebrow. Who the hell was cooking? He didn't think it was Hermione, as he'd heard Ron complain about the few times she had tried her hand at making dinner. _It couldn't be…_

Harry pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and his mouth dropped open.

Draco Malfoy was cooking breakfast in _his_ kitchen, complete with a white and red gingham apron Harry had bought a year or so ago when his baking habit kept ruining his clothes. And he looked amazing doing it. The fact that Kreacher was off to the side staring at Malfoy like an alien was also a priceless addition.

Enjoying the view without realizing what he was doing, Harry leaned against the doorframe, letting the door rest against his back. Malfoy obviously knew what he was doing. Now that Harry was closer, he could single out the smell of bacon, muffins, and sausage as well.

While Harry was fine with watching for a few minutes, his stomach had other thoughts. As it growled, Harry saw Malfoy practically jump, almost dropping the tongs he was holding as he watched over the bacon.

"For heaven's sake, Potter. Can't you at least announce yourself when you enter a room instead of standing there like a stalker?" Malfoy growled.

Harry grinned as he finally saw a part of Malfoy that he recognized. "Ah, yeah. Sorry about that. Not used to seeing men cooking in my kitchen. Well, anyone cooking in my kitchen," he amended, realizing he hadn't had overnight company in months. No, make that years. When had he become such a recluse?

"Yes, well, I don't like freeloading and it didn't seem like anyone was awake after I'd checked up on Ron. I hoped you all wouldn't be against a traditional breakfast. Of course, I was surprised you even had all of this," Malfoy said. Harry realized that they were having a completely normal conversation with no insults and no biting words.

_When did this even become possible?_ Harry wondered, completely flabbergasted. But he was in no hurry to turn the atmosphere into a hostile one.

"Ah, yeah. Kreacher usually does that for me, though a lot of it tends to spoil. I rarely entertain, and I bake more than I actually cook," Harry admitted, smiling. He'd gotten used to the crotchety house-elf. While he didn't like Kreacher, he admitted life was easier with him. Kreacher hadn't exactly warmed up to him either, merely acknowledged him as master of the house, took care of the house and other things, and tried to stay out of the way. It had worked quite well for several years now.

"Maybe you can grace us later with some of your baking prowess, then," said Draco offhandedly. He pulled out the muffins and smiled. Harry was absolutely transfixed until Draco turned to him, smile fading into confusion. Malfoy didn't question, though. Again. "Would you mind going to get Granger? Sorry, Weasley? Breakfast is ready."

Harry nodded and made his exit the way he came, walking up the stairs to Hermione's room.

_If this is how it's going to be, I hardly mind him being here at all! _Harry smiled to himself. Yes, he could get used to this.

* * *

**So, slight posting lag between this chapter and the next. Stick with me, oh non-existent readers! (Basing this assumption upon lack of reviews... .)**

**Thank yous again to Terra for betaing for me. ^_^**

**Feel free to leave reviews!!! They help writers write. *.***

**More reviews, faster you find out who the creepy people in black are... .  
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